


What We're Thinking

by Sproid



Category: due South
Genre: Childhood Friends, Episode Related, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproid/pseuds/Sproid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the whole debacle ends, Mark finds himself sticking around in Chicago. There’s no reason for him to stay, but leaving would feel like running away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We're Thinking

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt) in the [DS_C6D_Prompt_Meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DS_C6D_Prompt_Meme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> What was Mark thinking? Slash could be as teenagers or adults or both.

After the whole debacle ends, Mark finds himself sticking around in Chicago. There’s no reason for him to stay, but leaving would feel like running away.

Every night he heads for a different pond, skates rings around the kids there and teaches them how to do the same. Every night, Ben finds him. With a smile on his face, he jumps onto the ice and heads straight for Mark, always putting himself on the other team when they play. They both know that he’s got no more chance against Mark than the kids have, but that doesn’t stop Ben trying.

Sometimes Mark thinks that Ben has more interest in knocking into him than he does in scoring. Mark’s got nothing against that. Judging from Ben’s grin as he gets right back up, it’s been too long since Ben’s played rough-and-tumble with anyone. As for Mark, he’s used to his ‘friends’ pandering to his ego rather than giving him a run for his money. If Ben wants to stand up to him, Mark isn’t going to stop him, and he’s sure as hell not going to go easy on him.

A couple of weeks pass, evenings spent dancing around each other, parting with a clap on the back to go to their separate homes. Then the weekend arrives, and Mark’s got an itch under his skin that hockey won’t soothe, along with a need to see Ben that’s a bad idea to indulge on the ice. 

When he turns up at Ben’s apartment, Ben’s sitting at the rickety old table in his undershirt, stroking Dief with one hand and turning the page of some old journal with the other. As Mark steps in, Ben looks up, and says, “I was wondering when you’d turn up here.”

Mark shuts the door. “You were expecting me?”

Ben closes the book and stands, nudging Dief underneath the table with a socked foot. “It seemed likely.” As he talks, he takes a few steps closer. He’s still out of arm’s reach, but his eyes glance over Mark’s body, and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks that say he could very easily be within it if that’s what Mark wants.

Mark can’t help laughing. Shaking his head, he closes the gap between them, and reaches out to clap a hand to the side of Ben’s neck. “You’re not quite as innocent as you make out, are you?”

Tilting his head back a little to meet Mark’s eyes, Ben replies with a half-smile, “Some people would say that was impossible, yes.”

They end up on the bed in short order, Ben beneath Mark because there’s no way Mark’s back is up to coping with the mattress on this thing, and also because Ben tugs Mark on top of him insistently and groans when he’s there. Spread out beneath Mark, hot skin and hard muscle, he gets a hand around Mark’s neck and pulls him down. He kisses like he’s got nothing to hide, open-mouthed and deep, tongue sliding against Mark’s without hesitation, and when Mark puts his hand to Ben’s jaw to hold him there, Ben just yields and lets him take over with a soft sound. 

His hands are cautious on Mark, and for all that he stripped out of his clothes with no self-consciousness earlier, and definitely knows how to kiss someone, it’s pretty obvious that he’s not got all that much experience with sex. Contrary to everything Mark’s experienced before though, Ben doesn’t hide it, isn’t embarrassed, just looks up at Mark and murmurs, “Show me?” 

And for the first time, Mark hesitates, because Ben deserves better than this, better than _him_.

“Oh no you don’t,” Ben says, and brings one leg up to hook around the back of Mark’s good leg, pulling firmly enough that getting free would be pretty tough, and pressing their groins firmly together. Hands closing tightly around Mark’s arms, he tells him, “If you leave now, I will hide every hockey stick you own before you get home.”

Drawn out of his guilt with a laugh, Mark drops his forehead to rest against Ben’s. “No way. Isn’t that against the Mountie code or something?”

The tension in Ben’s grip eases, and he rubs his palms slowly along Mark’s arms. “I don’t recall anything specifically relating to the storage of hockey sticks, no.”

“Guess I’d better stay then,” Mark murmurs, and presses a kiss to Ben’s mouth, his jaw, his nose, which makes Ben go cross-eyed as he tries to focus.

Part of Mark thinks he should go slow, be careful, make this romantic. That’s not what this is though, not what they are to each other, and Ben wouldn’t appreciate him pretending. Too close to lying. So instead he drifts his fingers down Ben’s ribs, makes him huff out a laugh, catches Ben’s hands before they can get to his own sides, and presses Ben into the mattress with his weight. 

“Not like you to give up, Ben,” he says with a grin, and watches as Ben gets the idea, lifts his head to lick at Mark’s neck and pulls his hands free when Mark shivers at the hot touch of his tongue. When he finds Mark’s sides with his fingers, he’s ruthless in his efforts to tickle him, stuttering to a stop only when Mark slides down to take his nipple between his teeth.

“Oh, that’s - ah - not fair,” Ben gasps out, hands clenching on Mark’s sides.

Mark raises his head. “Who said anything about fair?”

Determination flashes across Ben’s face, and after that things devolve into a heated, messy scramble to gain the upper hand, displays of strength interspersed with touches of hands and mouths which draw groans and shudders from the each other. They grapple with no real winner; Mark’s stronger but Ben’s sneakier, and it’s equally as much fun to watch Ben’s satisfaction at being on top as it is to wrestle him back underneath Mark again.

When sweat-slick skin makes it difficult to get ahold of each other properly, Mark finds Ben’s mouth and presses his to it again, hands smoothing slowly down Ben’s ribs until they stop heaving quite so much beneath his touch. “Alright down there?” he asks.

Ben nods. “Yes. Mark-”

Mark rocks his hips into Ben’s, and the words die out as their cocks slide against each other. Then Mark lifts up just enough that there’s room for his hand between their bodies, and closes his hand around both of their lengths, drawing a long groan from Ben. Hands slipping on Mark’s skin, Ben’s head tips back as Mark strokes them both. The sounds coming from him are low and rough, and when Mark lowers his head to press his lips to Ben’s throat, he can feel them rumbling their way out.

“Can I…” Ben gets out, gaze darting down to their bodies, and then one hand works its way between them, fingers pressing against Mark’s stomach as he waits for the answer.

“Yeah.” Mark takes his hand away, finds Ben’s and guides it to join him. Their fingers twine together as he shows Ben how to move their sweat-dampened hands on both of them, and he watches the pleasure wash over Ben’s face with every long movement, sees it sharpen as they speed up, and then it’s too much and both of their eyes close, hips pressing into each other as they spill over their joined hands. 

When Mark manages to persuade his limbs that they need to move so he can roll off Ben, Ben makes a protesting sound and throws his arm over Mark’s back. “Not yet,” he says softly.

Mark turns his head to press a brief kiss to Ben’s ear, and says, “Not going anywhere, Ben. You’re not all that comfy to lie on though, and I don’t wanna squash you.”

After that, Ben lets him move, and Mark rolls onto his side next to him, wiping his hand on the sheets before he reaches out to lay in on Ben’s chest. After following his example, Ben brings his own up to join it, and covers Mark’s hand with his own, playing with his fingers as they lie there and catch their breath.

“That was..” Ben lets out a long, satisfied sigh, and smiles lazily at the ceiling. “The most fun I’ve had in this bed since I got here. Thank you.”

Coming from someone whose usually perfectly ordered hair is thoroughly messed, and whose stomach is sticky with their come, the politeness is both entirely strange, and entirely Ben. 

Mark just replies, “Most fun I’ve had since I got here, too. So, y’know, thank you.”

Turning his head on the pillow, Ben meets Mark’s eyes with his own curious gaze. “Don’t take this as an indication that I want you to leave, because I don’t, but… can I ask you, why are you here?”

Mark blinks. “You knew I’d turn up, but not why?”

“Not entirely,” Ben confirms.

Sighing, Mark asks, “You want the truth, or a version that won’t hurt your feelings?”

Ben smiles. “I’ve got no misapprehensions about the nature of this encounter, Mark. I’m not expecting a declaration of love. I’m well aware that we’re friends; granted, ones who are sexually compatible, but nothing other than that.”

In the light of Ben’s easy honesty, Mark’s reluctance to give voice to his reasons fades away. That doesn’t necessarily make it easy to speak. There are so many ways he could answer. While he wonders how to start, he muses, “You know, in some ways, you haven’t changed since we were kids. You always said exactly what you thought back then, too.”

Ben is quiet. Mark lets that calm gaze clarify what’s in his own head.

“I feel like I lost that way back. Not the saying what I mean thing; you saw me let loose with those detectives. Sorry about that, by the way.” Ben nods, and squeezes his hand. “I guess… I wanted to be around someone who remembers what we wanted when we were younger. What we _were_. Before everything got all messed up with fame, and money, and my own stupidity.”

“You’re not stupid, Mark,” Ben says softly, shaking his head. “You’re human. You made mistakes.”

Damn big ones, Mark thinks, but Ben already knows that. “In the locker room, you said you were proud of me.”

“I did. I meant it.”

“I still don’t know why. But you’re the first person, other than my parents, who has believed in me like that for a long time. My teammates expect me to pull great shots off, but that’s not _me_ , that’s the hockey player. I don’t know why you’ve got faith in me, Ben, but I’m selfish enough to want it even if I don’t deserve it.”

Ben turns onto his side, and reaches out to get his arms around Mark and pull him in for a hug. His hold is strong, and Mark lets himself be drawn into the warmth of Ben’s body, shuffling down so that he can tuck his face into the hollow of Ben’s neck. He doesn’t usually show his need so openly, but Ben doesn’t laugh, just rests his chin on top of Mark’s head and says, “Do you want me to tell you why I’m proud of you?”

_Because you’re you, Ben._

“Or do you want to work it out for yourself?”

“Do you think I can?” 

The sentence ends on a cracked word, and Ben’s hand rubs along his back.

“Without a doubt.”

Breathing in deep, Mark lets that assurance wash over him, and hopes one day he can feel it for himself instead of just borrowing it. “Christ, Ben,” he says roughly into Ben’s throat. “I missed you.” He gets his arms around Ben, and grips tight.

Squeezing him almost until he can’t breathe, just for a moment, Ben replies, “And I you, Mark.”

After a few minutes, Mark’s heart stops thumping so wildly in his chest, and he brings his head up so he can lay a gentle kiss on Ben’s mouth, a ‘thank you’ he knows Ben wouldn’t accept if he said it aloud. 

“You know,” he says, finding it easier to smile once more. “There’s another reason I’m here.”

“Oh?”

“You’re pretty damn hot these days,” Mark says with a wink, and grins as Ben blushes. Carefully, Mark asks, “Can I stay the night?”

Ben pretends to consider, and he doesn’t do pretending very well, because he’s looking a lot hopeful and only a little shy even before he says, “Only if you brought condoms.”

“You mean there’s something you’re not prepared for?” Mark asks, and the surprise is only half fake. “Damn, Ben. The image is ruined.”

“Well, it’s been a while since I needed them,” Ben explains defensively. “I think I have some around here somewhere, but they’re probably past their expiry date, and I’m not sure I can remember where I - oh, you’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Mark says, and ruffles Ben’s hair, leaving him smiling before he rolls off the bed. “You mind?”

“Not really, no.”

“Ben?”

“Yes, Mark?”

“Your wolf has stolen my jacket.”

“Oh.” The sheets rustle as Ben sits up behind Mark, and peers around him. “So he has.” Then he pats Mark on the back, and says, “Good luck with that.”

Playing tug-of-war bare-assed with a wolf, while Ben laughs quietly on the bed, is possibly the strangest thing Mark has done in his life.

He does it though, because Ben said he could. 

It’s not always going to be that way, can’t possibly be, but Ben makes him believe that maybe he’s got a chance.


End file.
